


dirty paws

by starscry



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Minor Violence, Wolf Alucard, more on the side of pre-slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 04:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starscry/pseuds/starscry
Summary: Trevor befriends a wolf.





	dirty paws

**Author's Note:**

> this is, for the most part, based on that quick shot in the castlevania opening where the wolf transforms into Alucard, as well as the fact that he can take the form of a wolf in-game. I still have yet to play the games, so I apologize again for any possible discrepancies!

Gresit overwhelms him. The ever-present tenseness that curls fingers into white-knuckled fists and grits teeth and sets everyone on edge, as if the city is a powderkeg about to explode; the pervasive whispers, rumors about _Speakers_ and _Belmont_ and _vampires_ passing from lips hidden behind cupped hands to keen ears that listen and spread gossip to the far reaches of the city; the stench of clotting blood and rotting wounds, of guts strung up over market stalls and heads on pikes and bodies gutted by hellish fiends as they slept their last, the pile of carcasses in the canal that grows by the day, an amalgamation of names and faces forgotten in the face of overwhelming adversity. Trevor’s ideal method of coping with it all by drinking the bottom-shelf pisswater that passes for ale in this city until he passes out gets him annoyed lectures from Sypha, sick of dragging his ass to bed every night and rolling him onto his side to ensure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit and die (which would, really, be such a fucking _fitting_ end for him). So, he copes the only other way he knows how to – by leaving it all behind, escaping and forgetting about the six-foot-deep hole he’s dug himself, if only for a moment. 

One of the locals shows him a way beyond the city walls that, thank Christ, isn’t the shit-pipe he crawled in through. When he’s not needed by Sypha or the Speakers to help with their relief efforts or to train and plan for their upcoming jaunt to Dracula’s castle, he sneaks out heads north. There’s a small bit of forest that stretches less than a mile’s walk from Gresit – a haven, compared to the absolute hell that is the city. He curls his cloak around himself and nestles into the roots of a tree and enjoys the silence brought by the winter months, the fresh air and the frozen earth that isn’t, for once, spattered by blood. Trevor simply sits and is _alone_ , as he’s been since the Belmont family flame guttered and left behind naught but ashes. As he will, in all likelihood, always be. 

It’s there that he meets the wolf for the first time. He slips Sypha and the guards and makes his way to the little spot he’s carved out for himself in a copse of trees just before the sun dips below the distant mountaintops, intending to take an hour to rest before twilight segues into cold night and the horde comes out of hiding. Burrowed into the fur ruff of his coat, Trevor is near dozing off when the crack of a branch to his left startles him. His hand flies, instantly, to the handle of his whip, wrapped tight around it and poised to strike; but, the need never comes. From a crevice of shadow between two trees, a white form slowly manifests. He narrows his eyes, peering as it inches closer – it’s undeniably a wolf, near as tall as his chest. Lean and lanky and massive for one of its kind, fur the color of a fresh snowfall being ruffled by the breeze, long muzzle flecked with red and gore dripping from its maw. The wolf takes careful steps toward him, paws padding softly on the ground with an odd, careful poise, and Trevor tenses, unsure if he should crack his whip and send it running or wait and see what the beast does. It seems to sense his unease and lowers itself, tail tucked between its legs and ears flattened, rolling over to expose its belly and whining softly; Trevor grew up with enough hunting dogs on the Belmont family estate to know a show of submission when he sees one, as odd as it may be for a something so wild to do so. He lets his hand drop from the hilt of his whip and settles back down into his spot, patting his thigh and whistling at the beast.

“C’mere, boy,” he chirps, beckoning it to him. The wolf simply stares for a moment, strangely familiar golden eyes meeting his, before sauntering over and laying beside him. “There’s a good one,” Trevor says, holding out a tentative hand curled into a fist to let it smell him.

The wolf takes a single, disdainful sniff of his knuckles and flicks its tail, subsequently ignoring him in favor of licking its muzzle clean of the blood staining it. Trevor snorts and rolls his eyes. “Too good for me?”

Golden eyes flit momentarily his way, and Trevor swears it gives him a deadpan brow raise. He sighs and rummages in the sack he brought with him, pulling out a flask of water. “Here,” he murmurs, pouring a bit of liquid into a cupped palm and bringing it to the wolf’s snout, “let me help. You reek of blood; thought I got enough of that shit in the city.”

The wolf stops licking itself, head still as Trevor gently cups its muzzle with one hand and drips water onto its fur with the other, cleaning the blood away more efficiently that it can on its own. An inquisitive gaze follows his every move, but the wolf is simply content to let Trevor carefully aid it.

When he finishes, he slumps back against the tree, sighing and running a hand through a snowy white ruff, fingers scratching behind pert ears. “Christ, what am I even doing?” he mumbles to himself, palm scrubbing down his face. “You’re just some – wild animal. Don’t know why I’m bothering.”

The wolf turns and bumps its snout into the hand that’s stroking it, wet nose snuffling Trevor’s palm and a smooth tongue darting out to lick it, almost like a docile dog. He lets out a bark of laughter at how utterly bizarre this entire situation is; bizarre, but not unwelcome, he thinks. After days of dealing with the dead and the dying and his apparent _destiny_ that involves fighting Dracula, it’s strangely.. enjoyable to talk to something that won’t talk back to him. A simple moment in the utterly confusing hellscape that is his life at the current moment.

A screech jolts him from his reverie, and Trevor glances around him to see that the sun has long since set, the moon’s ascent into the night sky heralding the daily coming of Dracula’s fiends. He sighs and stands, stretching and popping tight muscles in his back and slinging his bag over one shoulder.

“Sorry, boy,” he murmurs down to the wolf, giving it one last, good-natured scritch on the head, “duty calls. Go back to your family.”

It flicks an ear blinks lazily up at him, padding away back the way it came as if it understood his words. _God, everything about Gresit is too fucking odd for me_ , Trevor thinks. _Even the wildlife._

When he slips back into Gresit and finds Sypha and Alucard awaiting him, he thinks he catches a glimpse of familiar snow-white fur settled upon the hem of the vampire’s coat. Trevor blinks it away; a trick of the light, he tells himself. Nothing more.

\- - -

Trevor brings an extra bit of salted fish he’d managed to snag with him when he next visits the forest, just in case. He’s glad to put Gresit behind him for an hour or two, sick of dealing with the Speakers’ bullshit and putting up with Alucard’s pompous ass; seeing the vampire being treated like some sort of messiah makes Trevor’s insides turn, and if he never has to see that stupidly fucking perfect face again, it’ll be too soon.

It’s a pleasant surprise when he finds the wolf sitting in the clearing, as if it’s expecting him. A rabbit rests at its paws, neck broken, barely a drop of blood staining its dusty pelt. 

“What do you have there, boy?” Trevor asks, settling down beside the beast and stretching out. “Got a snack for yourself?”

The wolf stares at him and blinks slowly, flicking an ear. Then, it drops its muzzle and noses the rabbit toward Trevor, rolling the body until it rests just in front of the hunter.

Trevor stares back at it. Well, that was certainly unexpected. He picks the dead rabbit up by its scruff and turns it around in his hands, examining the animal; not too lean, despite the season, with just enough meat on its bones to make some sort of dish.

“For me?” he asks, receiving only a soft huff in answer. Trevor digs in his pack and pulls out the extra fish he’d brought with him, holding it out toward the wolf. “I’ll trade you.”

It glances down at the meat, then back up to Trevor, making no move to take the food from him. “Not hungry, huh? More for me, then.” He takes a bite, frowning at the tough, dry texture; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had meat that hadn’t been hanging from a market stall for upwards of a week. Trevor takes the rabbit by its hind legs and gives it another once-over, lips pursed in thought. “Might make a nice stew,” he mumbles to himself. “I’m sure Sypha wouldn’t mind some fresh meat, either. Thanks, boy.”

The wolf meets the palm he holds out and lets him run his fingers through the fur on its cheek, eyes half-lidded in lazy enjoyment as Trevor pets it. It rolls over onto its side, prompting him to rub its belly, and Trevor, of course, obliges; he gives the wolf a good rub-down and grins at the way its paws flop in the air and its tongue lolls lazily from the side of its mouth, obviously enjoying the affection. Beneath thick fur, the tips of his fingers graze over something – the thick, raised tissue of a scar, slicing directly down its stomach. He parts white fluff and smooths a hand over the mark, brows knit. “Huh. Looks like you had a nasty run-in,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the line. The wolf rolls back over, ears tilted backwards. 

“Reminds me of him. ‘Course, you wouldn’t know him; he’s a right bastard, but he’s got a big scar, just like you.” Trevor trails off, groaning and flopping over onto his stomach, face buried into the fur of his cloak. “I just don’t get it, boy. I don’t get _him_. He steps out of his coffin and he’s suddenly, what, some sort of fucking _savior_ to them? They laud him as their sleeping soldier and forget that inside, he’s just like every other bloodthirsty cocksucker I’ve slain. He could drain them dry and they’d fawn and say _thank you_ because they think he’s the second coming of Jesus.”

A snout comes to rest on one of Trevor’s thighs, tail waving back and forth and brushing frosted leaves on the forest floor. “Sypha trusts him, and she’s a fool to,” he continues, rubbing the wolf’s ears mindlessly, the soft fur a comfort beneath his fingers. “I’ve seen enough family murdered by vampires; I can’t do it again. Not with her. I’ll never understand what’s going through that woman’s brain.”

He glances down, gaze meeting golden eyes. “Whatever. I’m rambling at you and you don’t understand a word of it,” he sighs. “Nice to have a pair of ears that’ll listen and not talk back, though. God knows I’ve too much shit to deal with in my life right now. Makes me miss the days when I lived at the bottom of a bottle and didn’t have to be sober enough to swing my sword.”

The wolf lets out a sympathetic huff. 

Trevor yawns and throws an elbow over his eyes, allowing himself to doze off for a bit while his companion breathes a soft, comforting rhythm beside him. When he awakens, the wolf is nowhere to be found, a trail of pawprints leading back into the forest and a dead rabbit at Trevor’s feet the only signs that it was ever there and he wasn’t just living out some weird fucking fever dream.

Reluctantly, Trevor makes his way back to the hellpit that is Gresit. Sypha is ecstatic to have some real, fresh meat and sets to skinning the rabbit and cutting the meat off its bones to make a stew out of. He makes to help her, but one whiff of Trevor sets her nose crinkling and she shoos him away to bathe before he’s allowed anything to eat. 

He trudges up the stairs of the ramshackle house they’re staying at, only to find the door leading to the tub everyone has been intermittently using closed. Trevor pounds impatiently on it, and hears a faint “Almost done!” through the wall. A minute later, Alucard steps out wearing nothing but his typical black pants, shirt slung over his bare chest and hands threading through wet golden locks to comb tangles from it. Trevor pauses, mouth slightly ajar, noticing the small rivulets of water slipping down Alucard’s body, over the wide berth of his scar and trailing his taut stomach. He indulges himself for just a split second, gazing appreciatively at Alucard’s body, before his eyes flick upward and meet an inquisitive golden stare. 

“Water’s still warm,” Alucard says, tossing his hair back and slipping the loose cotton shirt on, obscuring Trevor’s view of his body.

“Hope you didn’t leave any blood in the bath.”

“If I’d known you were bathing after me, perhaps I would have.”

Trevor snorts derisively, shouldering his way past Alucard. He’s abruptly stopped by a strong hand encircling his wrist, an iron grip holding him in place. Alucard leans close – far too close for Trevor’s comfort, lean body pressed up against the side of his, nose hovering over his neck. 

Jerking back, Trevor snaps. “What the hell?”

Alucard gives him a thin-lipped smile, eyes narrowed. “You smell like dog.”

“Keep your nose to yourself, vampire.”

The other man lets go of his wrist and turns to go downstairs, tossing one last glance Trevor’s way. “The scent suits you,” he says. “Always growling.”

Trevor slams the door shut behind himself and strips, attempting to take his mind off the vampire’s unnerving behavior by practically scrubbing his skin off with soap. When he finally makes his way downstairs to eat dinner with the others, Sypha seems pleasantly surprised, remarking about how fresh he smells; he meets Alucard’s eyes and the vampire stares back, the barest hint of fangs peeking through his lips.

\- - -

It becomes a daily routine, of sorts. Trevor makes his way out to the forest before nightfall and the wolf is always there, sitting primly between the trees, waiting for him. It always seems to know exactly when he’ll arrive, which he finds strange, but can’t actually question – it’s not as if the beast could answer him, anyway. He holds one-sided conversations, airing his complaints and getting the odd nose twitch or blink or ear flick in return.

Some days, it brings gifts: scrawny rabbits, squirrels, a deer haunch, once, that looked like a pair of strong jaws had ripped it right from the carcass. Sypha doesn’t question his going out beyond the walls alone, faithful in his strength and overjoyed to have _real_ food to eat.

By night and lengthy day, Trevor is forced into a world of planning and fighting, training with Alucard and Sypha for hours at Sypha’s insistence; inside, he understands her reasoning and knows that it’s best they all memorize each other's fighting styles, how to cover blind spots for one another and work coherently as a group before they delve into Dracula’s castle. Understanding, however, does not mean he has to enjoy the training, and if he fights a bit dirty and yanks the long hair that dangles teasingly before him during close-quarter sparring with the vampire, that’s just a small pleasure Trevor allows himself. He finds he needs less and less alcohol to deal with Alucard as the days pass by, but liquor still helps him ignore the golden eyes that seem to follow his every move, taking the edge off his nerves. 

When he arrives at the forest one day, the wolf is nowhere to be found. He pokes around the trees and whistles a bit, attempting to call it to him, but the only answer he receives is the cold howl of the winter wind echoing throughout the valley. Trevor bundles up in his coat and rests against a tree, sullen. _It’s a beast,_ he thinks to himself, _I’m sure it wandered off somewhere else. Hunting ‘round here is scarce, anyhow._ Despite rationalizing the situation, the change in routine disgruntles him, and Trevor finds himself longing for the docile animal, wanting to run his hands through its fur as he did the dogs owned by his family, once, before they turned to ash alongside his entire livelihood. 

He sits and sulks and mulls over the day’s events in his mind, chewing thoughtfully on cured meat and stale bread to stave off the hunger that gnaws at his stomach. Twilight arrives, and he hears them – the shrieks of Dracula’s fiends, the beating of their wings and the sound of long nails clacking against hard-packed dirt as they make for Gresit. Keen ears pick up another sound alongside those that have become so familiar to him as of late; a pained howl that devolves into a long, stuttering whine, unmistakably canine in origin. It’s nearby, and he dashes through the trees after it, stumbling into a clearing to find his wolf tearing at the flesh of a demon, jaws attempting to pry the creature’s mouth from it. Trevor grabs his whip and lashes out, careful to only hit the fiend, and the consecration upon his weapon takes care of it quickly.

The wolf collapses to the ground, and Trevor moves to kneel beside it, surveying the damage. There are bloody bite marks around its neck and chest, but the worst damage is to one of its hind legs – it sticks out at a jarring angle, snapped in half, blood leaking from a gash caused by the sharp bone that splits straight out of its fur. The bone is such a stark white it makes Trevor momentarily recoil because legs _aren’t supposed to look like that_ and the creature is writhing on the ground, whimpering helplessly. 

He has no idea what the genuine fuck to do, so he sits and stares at the beast, gears in his head spinning and trying to come up with some sort of plan. Rummaging in his bag for something that will stem the blood seeping from the leg, he nearly misses it – the wolf’s body elongating, paws becoming hands and feet and and white fur shedding to reveal pale skin, a face contorted in pain, and unmistakable blond hair.

“Alucard?” Trevor whispers, utterly bewildered. His wolf is _Alucard?_ _God really loves to fuck with me_ , he thinks.

“ _Yes_ ,” the vampire grits out, body curled in and hands grabbing at his leg. It looks even worse, now, the bone of his shin sticking straight out at an angle that shouldn’t be possible. He’s completely naked, and Trevor would normally have the decency to be somewhat embarrassed, but his instincts kick in and he gently lifts the other man from the ground, taking the cloak off his own shoulders and wrapping it around Alucard’s, his skin nearly as pale as the white ruff. 

“Aren’t you going to do your whole..” Trevor trails off and waves his hand in the air vaguely around his chest area, where Alucard had healed himself after their battle, “..vampire thing?”

“I – can’t,” Alucard replies, crying out in pain as Trevor helps him stand and balance on his good leg, arm held tight around the hunter’s shoulders. “The bone.. needs to be set for it to heal correctly.”

“Fucking hell,” Trevor curses, glancing down and wincing once more at the painful injury. “Can you make it back to Gresit in one piece? It’s a good mile from here.”

“Yes. Hurry.” The vampire glances up at the horde swarming in the sky just above the city, teeth clenched in pain. “Can’t fight like this.”

“All right, all right. I’ll get you back, don’t worry your pretty little head.” Trevor wraps a firm arm around Alucard’s waist and makes sure the vampire’s other arm is secured around his neck and slowly helps him hobble back to Gresit. They make it back with miraculous luck, the fiends apparently too focused on the cityfolk to pay them much mind.

When they arrive back in Gresit, Sypha and the Speakers are nowhere to be found – likely out with the people, Trevor guesses, cursing his shit timing. Any healing magic Sypha has would be ideal right now. He dumps Alucard on the bed in his room and swipes the old rag hanging from the side of the washbasin, dunking it in water. “This might sting a bit,” he warns, holding Alucard’s calf in one hand and using the rag to wipe away blood with the other.

“Fucking hell, Belmont! Could you be a bit more gentle?” Alucard snaps, fists white-knuckling the bedsheets. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Trevor mutters sheepishly, mopping up the blood less vigorously and paying attention to Alucard’s every flinch and pained groan. He manages to clean the wound around the bone sufficiently enough that he can see the gash and the break clearly; the vampire lucked out, he notices, the bone broken in two at a seam that will be easily reparable. At least nothing had shattered.

“You might want to bite down on something that isn’t me,” Trevor tells him. “It’ll help with the pain.” Judging by the look on Alucard’s face, the vampire isn’t amused by his attempt to lighten the situation with a bit of humor. 

“Get on with it,” Alucard whines. “Please.” Chest heaving and expression one of immense pain, Alucard looks worse than Trevor’s seen him yet; he feels a pang of sympathy in his chest, all too familiar with just how much a break like this can hurt.

“All right. On the count of three,” he says, and Alucard nods.

“One.” Trevor grips the other man’s knee and ankle firmly, ready to pull.

“Two.” He can see Alucard tensing for the inevitable count of ‘three’ that never comes. Instead, Trevor pushes down on his knee pulls the bone back in place with a nauseating crunch that echoes around the room. 

Alucard cries out, writhing on the bed, and Trevor grabs one of his hands to steady him. The grip that clenches his fingers nearly crushes them, and Trevor can feel his bones grate together for a moment before the vampire calms down and lies back, chest heaving. He glances down, noticing that the wound has already begun to knit itself back together.

“There,” Trevor huffs, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“You said _three_.” If looks could kill, Alucard’s would send him to an early grave.

“Always better to be surprised than expectant. Takes the edge off.”

“Remind me to never allow you near my wounds again.”

“Again?” Trevor snorts. “What, you planning to go on another little jaunt outside the city while the hellspawn are out? Break your other leg, maybe?”

“You act as if I _meant_ for this to happen,” Alucard replies testily.

“Well, it sure as shit wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you weren’t off playing big bad wolf in the woods.”

“It was an _accident,_ Belmont; such things happen,” Alucard replies, eyes screwed shut and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He lets out a long, weary sigh, and Trevor can see how utterly tired the whole affair has made him. Healing a wound like that must take some sort of toll on his stamina. “Anyway, I hardly realized you cared so much about my wellbeing, considering you tell me to fuck off practically every chance you get.”

“Can’t have one third of our little prophecy party get himself killed before we even make it to Dracula’s castle,” Trevor mutters. 

“It was scarcely a life-threatening injury.”

“That’s not the fucking _point_ ,” Trevor hisses at him, teeth grit. “Look – get this through your thick fucking vampire skull, because I’m only going to say it once: you’re our strongest, and we need you. Why the hell would you go out and risk getting hurt like that?”

“Why would you?” Alucard retorts. “Every day, you slip beyond the city walls. And for what? A nap in the bushes?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“Sometimes I just need a fucking _break_. You’ve been asleep for the past year while the rest of us have been living this hell; don’t act like you can sympathize.” Trevor crosses his arms over his chest, slumping down on the end of the bed, careful not to jostle Alucard’s still-healing leg. He glances at the vampire, tired eyes meeting his. “And while we’re airing our dirty laundry – a wolf? Really?”

Alucard purses his lips. “Shapeshifting is a talent I’ve always possessed.” 

“You didn’t tell me – didn’t tell any of us,” Trevor huffs, unable to stop the affronted tone tinging his words. 

“I intended to, when the time was right.”

“ _When the time was right_ ,” Trevor echoes, shaking his head ruefully. “So you just intended to play the part of the good dog until you deemed it necessary to let us know? Brilliant. We’re supposed to be a team, yet here you are, keeping secrets that could help us.”

The vampire cards a hand through his hair, an exasperated expression gracing his features. “After the first day we met in the forest, I planned to tell you when we arrived back. But, I..” he trails off into silence, staring absentmindedly at the wall to his left.

“But what?”

“We all have our personal demons, Belmont. I could sense that talking helped you deal with yours, if just a bit.”

“Oddly altruistic, coming from _you_.”

“Blame it on my human half,” Alucard murmurs. “I’m not completely immune to others’ suffering, though I know you enjoy thinking me some coldhearted bastard.”

“Christ. I can’t believe you listened to me rant _about you_ every day and didn’t say anything.” Trevor can’t help his short bark of laughter, the tension in the room diffusing; if he’d been in Alucard’s position, he wouldn’t have been able to take it all lying down. 

“It helps to understand _why_ you dislike me. If we’re to work as a team, it would help to at least be somewhat civil with one another.”

Trevor knows Alucard is right, though he’ll be damned if he admits it. “And the food you brought me?” he asks.

Alucard shrugs. “Hunting eases my mind. I simply brought back what I killed, knowing you would make better use of it than I.”

Slouched against the wall, Trevor heaves a sigh, the beginnings of a tension headache pounding at the base of his skull. “You were such a dog, y’know that? Letting me pet you, asking for belly rubs. Still can’t fuckin’ believe it was _you_ all along.”

“ _Wolf_ ,” Alucard corrects, shooting Trevor a sharp glance. “When I am in that form, sometimes my.. animal instincts tend to cloud my mind.”

“So do you fetch, then? Play dead? Roll over?” Trevor asks, a shit-eating grin spread wide on his face. “Sit, boy!”

“I can easily rip your throat out, Belmont,” Alucard snaps.

Trevor frowns mockingly. “Someone’s a grumpy dog.”

“Bite me.”

“I believe that’s more _your_ area of expertise.”

Alucard rolls his eyes, but the barest hint of a smile belies his outward annoyance. Rolling over onto his side, Trevor glances down at the other man’s shin, now smooth and perfectly straight, as if it had never been broken. Alucard flexes his leg and lets out a relieved breath, testing a bit of weight on the limb and finding it completely healed.

“Wish I could heal that fast,” Trevor comments. “Broke my leg falling off a horse once and had to wait _weeks_ ‘til I could do anything again.”

“The power comes with its own price,” Alucard replies cryptically. He sits back down on the bed, mattress dipping, pulling Trevor’s cloak tight around his body, shoulders slumped.

He looks far more tired than Trevor has ever seen him, gaze distant and his typical bravado seemingly sapped from him. “I misjudged you,” Trevor murmurs, breaking the silence that had settled around the room. Alucard looks at him, brows knit. “Suppose you’re not _quite_ the soulless bastard I’d made you out to be. You do have a bit of human in you, after all.”

“If judgement is your sin, then it is mine as well. We have both been at fault.”

“Mm,” Trevor hums his agreement. “I’m sure Sypha will be delighted that we’ve finally worked through some of our issues.”

Alucard doesn’t respond, simply chuckling softly and leaning back on the bed beside Trevor, their arms pressing together. It’s familiar. Reminiscent of days spent in the forest, a wolf curled up at his side as they dozed together. He yawns and lets his head lean gently against Alucard’s shoulder, finding the vampire’s tiredness rubbing off on him. Blond hair brushes against his face as his eyelids stutter closed, and the hand that covers his as he allows himself to leave Gresit behind and drift into sleep’s arms, if only for a few fleeting moments, is heavy and welcome.

He dreams of wolves.

**Author's Note:**

> a bit of an exploration; still getting a feel for the characters.
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/starscryy) or [tumblr](http://kenway.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
